FAMILY POETRY

Over the years Uncle Floyd wrote many poems, usually reflecting the times of his life. They are both philosophical and down to earth. I hope you will enjoy them as much as I. And there are other 'poets' in our family - you can meet them right here.

A LIFETIMESomewhere in Tennessee, in nineteen 03Floyd Matthews arrived.His parents were glad, the little ladBeat the odds and survived.At a very young ageAnd let him work at the sawmill.The sawdust pit was deep, the sawdust hill steep,But Floyd pushed the wheelbarrow up the sawdust hill.When Floyd lost his mother, his sister and brother Were to young to live alone.His dad became ill, sold the sawmillAnd vowed he would find the kids a home.It was in the days of old, when men had soulsWere kindly and would provide.Dad found places, midst friendly faces;Good homes where the kids could reside.At about age sixteen, with low esteemFloyd could work like a man.While working on a farm, he became alarmed,Floyd began to understand.Farm work and no pay, following a mule all dayHe was only tilling the land.Those were the times that tried men's minds;But Floyd found a helping handA Navy recruiting officerJoined the Navy and learn a trade.

THE FIRST EIGHTY YEARS

The first eighty years are the hardest.The next twenty will just a round of birthday parties.Everyone will want to help you up stepsAnd give you their chair, but won'tLet you have anything stronger thana coke to drink.

When you are eighty, forgetful andSpell words wrong, you need only toExplain that you are eighty. You havethe perfect alibi.

Being eighty is better than beingSixty five or seventy when everyoneExpects you to retire and move toFlorida, but will wonder how you madeIt - what was your secret of success?

You can explain that success doesn'tCome easily, it must be earned. Some Wise old folk call it hard work!

Family Reunion, at the New Millennium

As we celebrate century twenty-one,It's fun for all and all for fun.Come with a smile and a story to tell,A joke or two would do very well.If you choose not to take part in the fun,Give us your views of century twenty-one.You may relate to fiction or fact,Come to the reunion, get into the act!DECLINING YEARS

He who would pass the decliningYears of life with honor and comfort,Should when young consider that heMay one day become old,And remember, when he is old, that heHas once been young.So gather your rosebuds along the way.The flower that blooms in the spring,Provides no beauty and comfort when it'sPetals He who gathers his treasures whileYoung may become old in body, but mayLive his declining years with honor andIn Comfort.

WE HAVE HAD OUR DAYThere are times when we feel lousy all dayAnd times when we would like to go out and play.But when age creeps in and pains beginWe realize we have had our day.In times like this the old body insistsWe seek somChristie the nurse says you may get worse,You had better see Doctor Kincaid.She makes an appointment, we get pills and ointmentTo ease our aches, pains and fears.It may take refill‘Cause we’ve been complaining for ninety-eight years.

Written Upon His Retirement

Excited, maybe clever, it's now or neverFloyd thought he had it made.He signed on the line, with peace of mindHe was bussed to Birmingham.Soon sailing the sea, in the U.S. NaveeThrough peace and war, he sailed far.Until the end of World War TwoThe world was at peace, for a time at leastThere were others things to do.Though he loved to roam, over the ocean foamAnd sail the Deep Blue sea;Having served thirty year, amid laughter and tearsHe returned to hisFloyd may forget but never regretHis travels to places far away.But it was no surprise, that he realizedHis heart brought him home to stay.

THIS OLD SAILOR

Has sailed the seas near and farHas fixed his position from a starHas stood his watch from mid to fourNow he’s retired and put ashoreHe is happy where he residesHas found friends at Physicians West SideHe walks the line, he plays no tricks“Cause this old sailor is ninety six

The background of Melissa's story of Maw Maw’s rocking chair.

Three sisters: Dorothy (DOT), Linda (Fay, Fiddler), and Jo (Reba Joyce) were all three pregnant at the same time. Melissa (Linda's daughter) was a few weeks older than Joey (Dot's son) and Amy (Jo's daughter.) Joey & Amy were born hours apart & got along well together.Melissa was the terrorizer and "trouble maker,” according to mother & Linda. I thought she had spunk & she was my kind of child. One time at mothers, Melissa got in the bathroom with Amy and locked the door, not letting Amy out, nor anyone in; stuff like that happened all the time when they were together.MawMaw babysits the kids a lot and together they ran her ragged. She could sit and rock Amy & Joey; like she did her other grandchildren when they were small. Not Melissa; especially when the other two were around. That's what Melissa meant when she said "some of us made her cuss.” Of course my mother never cussed, but it rhymed with "fuss" and explained the situation.Melissa and her older sister Michele each have two children now. Michele's daughter and Melissa's youngest daughter were born a few hours apart (in Georgia). Melissa's daughters are sweet and precious, Michele's daughter Katy is just like Melissa was! Michele tells her sister that she got the wrong daughter. Last week Michele reprimanded Katy for something she did; shortly afterwards, she found Katy in her bedroom packing her bags; said she was going to grandma's. . .later....

Maw-Maw’s Rocking ChairGranddaughter, Melissa Schlenz Barnawell wrote the following poem and presented it to her “Maw-Maw”, Georgia Perry at her 80th birthday celebration.

Memories are all around us, for each of us to share;Memories from Maw-Maw’s rocking chair.

Maw-Maw loves all of us the sameThough she would call us by a different name.

She never chose a favorite one,Though some would claim to be that one.

It didn’t matter where we livedShe always had so much to give.

She showed her love in many ways;The food she cooked we could eat for days.

She taught us how to sew;And how the veggies in her garden grow.

But the way we knew she loved us the mostWas when she rocked us oh so close.

Some would sit without a fussSome of us would make her cuss.

Thank you Maw-Maw for the memories,Memories we share from your rocking chair.

The Midnight CrusadersGhosts beyond the grave,Break their hibernationTo revive the glory days--Their sleek rejuvenationAnd twilight in their driveThe wheels turn again, slowlyOver blackened fields, sun-deprivedAnd the limits to the visionEscape beyond our scopeThe end of the horizonExtinguished, faltered hopeThey drift on through the nightAnd fade at break of dayBut we remember the lights bright,Their tonic graft and weighVive! Says the talkerThe blind old man of faith--To the rain-shine garbled stalkerAnd the keeper of the grainOnward! Says the soldierThe Brazen man-replyThe morn of crisp white winterThe day the lights will die.